


things are better

by knee_knee



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst, Angsty!Thirteen, F/F, Fluff, NSFW, Oral Sex, PWP, Post-Spyfall, Smut, Spyfall Spoilers, Top!Thirteen, Vaginal Fingering, Yaz is hot for weird nerdy aliens, ft. the tardis’ mood lighting, let’s call it ‘tasteful’ smut, s12 spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-20
Updated: 2020-01-20
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:41:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22337965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knee_knee/pseuds/knee_knee
Summary: Bit of angst, then a bit of smut.Thirteen finally tells Yaz what happened to Gallifrey.Spoilers for Spyfall Part 1 and 2. Also, spot the line I nicked from Nikola Tesla’s Night of Terror ;)Got a prompt? Ask me on Tumblr @thirteensgayscarf or leave a comment!
Relationships: Thasmin - Relationship, Thirteen/Yaz, Thirteenth Doctor/Yasmin Khan
Comments: 8
Kudos: 90





	things are better

**Author's Note:**

> First time writing smut but, like, it’s pretty tame! Some fluff, some signature daftness, and Tardis mood lighting.

The Tardis hangs on the edge of a nameless galaxy, out of place in a void littered with barren exoplanets and asteroids. Across the expanse, light winks out as burning stars die, their passing observed only by the Doctor who watches unmoved.

Her quarters are dark, illuminated by the ambient light from the Tardis’ coral columns which thread through the ship like arteries. The glow is blue, bruising the Doctor’s face with shadows. She sits opposite her window, the blast shield lowered, contemplating just how quickly her past had caught up with her.

A month of happiness? Six? It’s difficult to keep track when linear time is of no concern.

The Doctor fiddles with a replacement engine coupling, the soiled rag she’d used to clean it lying forgotten on the floor where it had fallen. The oil spots on her boots have long since dried.

‘Fuck-,’ hisses the Doctor, accidentally pinching her finger on the coupling’s interlocking seal.

On impulse she hurls the coupling across the room, watching it ricochet off the leg of her workbench and land in the dark space below her bed.

Burning with the flash of adrenaline, the Doctor crosses to the sink in the corner of her room and sticks her hands under icy water. They’re trembling as she scrubs the dirt away, lathering soap with a nailbrush. 

There are cracks in the mirror that hangs above the sink, fine spiderwebs across her reflection. She wants to punch it but instead she crumbles. Great, shuddering sobs which she can’t contain any longer. Fat tears stinging her eyes and landing in the the sink, swirling away with the suds.

‘I’ve got you, Doctor. Here,’ says Yaz softly, a strong arm around the Doctor’s waist. She turns the tap off, grabbing a towel.

The Doctor barely acknowledges Yaz’s presence, letting herself be led to the sofa. She chokes on the last of her sobs, forcing calm breaths into her empty chest. She decides that breathing makes the pain worse but Yaz is holding her hands, rubbing warmth back into them with the towel. Slowly, her tears stop.

‘Yaz,’ says the Doctor, voice thick in her throat.

Yaz doesn’t speak. She discards the towel and takes the Doctor’s chilly hands in her own before meeting the Doctor’s eye.

‘It’s all gone.’

Though Yaz doesn’t say it, the look on her face is enough to tell the Doctor that she knew already. Yaz, brilliant and kind, had figured it out. 

Speaking it aloud threatens to send the Doctor back over the edge, so she pulls her hands away, tugging at her sleeves in order to wipe her salt-streaked face. Yaz passes her the towel and the damp cotton is soothing against her hot eyelids.

They sit in silence on the sofa, it’s purple fabric almost black in the blue light. Yaz pulls her feet up, fluffy slippers slipping off.

‘My home, Gallifrey, was destroyed a long time ago.’ The Doctor settles into the sofa cushions, staring out the window though she can feel Yaz’s eyes on her. ‘There was a war and I was the only one who survived. The last of the Time Lords. Except I - when I was a man - found a way to save it, stop it all from happening. Pulled it off, too.’

The Doctor glances at Yaz, catching the brief flash of pride on her face. She allows Yaz’s fingers to thread with her own, squeezing tight.

‘The Master, me and him were friends once but he changed, something twisting him until he was cruel and volatile. Last time we met, I thought I’d gotten through to him... It was him, he killed them all, burnt it all down again.’

‘I’m so sorry, Doctor.’ Yaz clasps the Doctor’s hand between both of hers, thumbs rubbing soothing circles into the Doctor’s skin.

‘I’m so tired, Yaz. I thought I didn’t need to run anymore but I was wrong,’ says the Doctor, shifting to face her friend. Her brow furrows as she meets Yaz’s gaze, her eyes brimming with sorrow. ‘You all ended up in danger because of me, because I let my guard down.’

‘No, it wasn’t your fault,’ Yaz lies, trying to spare her friend any more heartache, and the Doctor loves her for it.

‘It was and I’m so sorry,’ says the Doctor, pressing a kiss to Yaz’s knuckles. She leans close, eyes searching Yaz’s face for a sign.

The Doctor can’t help but think of those she’s lost, each buried like shards of glass in her hearts. She takes the pain in her stride though because it would be worse to forget, she thinks. Rose’s bravery, Martha’s wit, and Donna’s laugh.

She raises a hand to cup Yaz’s face, her thumb smoothing across Yaz’s temple and her friend melts.

It’s then that Yaz kisses her. Soft and quick enough that the Doctor thinks she’s imagined it. The young woman’s eyes are boring into her own, raw and vulnerable, and the Doctor knows she’s on the edge of something huge. It hits her hard, the realisation that for the first time in a long time, she wants someone.

‘Be sure,’ whispers the Doctor.

Yaz takes a shallow breath, body flooding with nervous energy. ‘Sure.’

The Doctor tilts Yaz’s face toward her, fingers ghosting along the young woman’s jawline. Yaz’s skin is on fire before the Doctor finally kisses her, slow and soft.

Yaz moves to straddle the Doctor, one hand tangling in her hair and the other tugging at her yellow braces. Emboldened by Yaz’s enthusiasm, the Doctor slides her hands around Yaz’s waist, tracing the contours of her back.

The Doctor tastes mint as Yaz’s tongue tentatively slides against her lower lip. She responds by nipping Yaz’s lip before pressing kisses along her jaw and throat. Her hands deftly slide under Yaz’s top, fingers tracing circles on her lower back. Yaz makes a noise halfway between a groan and a sigh, causing the Doctor to meet her eye.

‘You okay?’ The Doctor’s voice is husky, slightly breathless.

‘Yeah. You?’ Yaz pushes the Doctor’s hair out of her eyes, cupping her face, a thumb swiping her lower lip.

‘Better now you’re here,’ says the Doctor, a twinkle of mischief in her eyes. She nips Yaz’s thumb, then moves to kiss her again but Yaz pushes her back against the sofa cushions.

Confusion is quickly replaced by unbridled lust as Yaz slowly begins to unbutton her pyjama shirt, inch by inch revealing smooth, dark skin. She shrugs the shirt off, beautiful and bare in the Doctor’s lap.

‘Stunning,’ says the Doctor, locking eyes with Yaz as she leans forward again. She presses kisses down Yaz’s sternum, across her breasts, punctuating each with a whispered exaltation.

‘Oh god,’ groans Yaz when the Doctor’s tongue darts out to tease one of her nipples.

The Doctor’s lightly trails her fingers up Yaz’s sides and she shivers, goosebumps prickling her skin. Yaz pulls the Doctor’s mouth away from her breast, fist in her hair. The Doctor’s eyes are dark and wide, lashes fluttering closed against pale skin as Yaz kisses her, hard.

The room has gotten hotter, Yaz’s certain, because her skin feels slick with sweat and she’s practically panting against the Doctor’s neck as the Time Lord’s hands slip under her waistband to grip her bare rump. The Tardis’ coral burns orange, the ships constant hum the only other sound.

‘Take your clothes off, Doctor,’ says Yaz, leaning back and pulling on the Doctor’s yellow braces. She lets them snap back and the Doctor yelps.

With that, the Doctor wraps an arm around Yaz and pushes herself up with the other. Yaz chuckles as the Doctor stumbles to her feet, adjusting her grip on the young woman as she carries her toward the bed.

‘Stronger than you look, aren’t you?’ Yaz teases, kissing the Doctor quickly before they tumble onto the bed.

‘That’s me, macho man- sorry, woman- macho woman,’ mumbles the Doctor, kneeling above Yaz as she slides her braces down and begins to tug her top off. 

Yaz props herself up on an elbow, watching the Doctor struggle to get her head unstuck from her two top layers. She reaches out, walking her fingers up the Doctor’s taut stomach, stopping at her sports bra. The Doctor’s breathing hitches as Yaz hooks a finger under the elastic hem, waiting.

When the Doctor frees herself, she flings her tops across the room dramatically, puffing out a breath to blow her hair out of her eyes. It’s ineffective and Yaz smiles fondly. The Doctor wiggles out of her sports bra next, pinging it at Yaz’s face. The young woman tosses it aside and turns her attention to the half-naked Time Lord. Yaz’s fingers glide over the Doctor’s skin, as pale as moonlight, moving up to cup pert breasts. She rubs a thumb over a nipple and watches the Doctor close her eyes for a moment.

The Doctor presses Yaz down into the mattress, skin on skin, and kisses her hard. Yaz hears dull thuds as the Doctor kicks her boots off, then she wiggles closer still, her thigh pressing between Yaz’s legs. Yaz grabs the Doctor’s rump, one hand getting caught in the braces of her trousers. She flails her hand, untangling it but making a disgruntled noise against the Doctor’s lips. The Doctor pulls back, kneeling up in order to check Yaz is disentangled. Yaz takes the opportunity to begin unbuttoning her trousers. She catches the Doctor’s eye as she draws the zipper down.

Before Yaz can slip her hand into the Doctor’s underwear, she hops off the bed with a sly grin. Yaz doesn’t have time to question it as the Doctor quickly peels her pyjama bottoms down her legs, and she helps to kick them off.

Finally, she is bare before the Doctor, her earlier nerves long forgotten as the Doctor looks at her with obvious awe.

‘Yasmin Khan, you are so beautiful,’ says the Doctor simply and, perhaps for the first time, Yaz truly feels it. ‘Now, budge up.’

Yaz scoots back on the bed, making room for the Doctor who quickly finishes undressing. The Doctor’s hands glide up Yaz’s calves, stopping at her knees. She pauses, watching Yaz closely. The young woman is biting her lower lip, then she nods and smiles wickedly. Slowly, the Doctor parts Yaz’s legs and continues gliding her hands along the young woman’s inner thighs. Yaz is already wet and aching.

The Doctor bends her head, kissing and nipping her way down Yaz’s thighs, her hair tickling. Yaz’s breathing is heavy, her hands grasping at the bedsheets as the Doctor teases.

‘Doctor, plea-,’ says Yaz but before she can finish the Doctor’s tongue slowly draws up along her parted labia. 

The Doctor settles between Yaz’s legs, holding the young woman by the hips as she presses the flat of her tongue against Yaz’s clitoris, gently sucking with each stroke. 

‘Oh fuck,’ pants Yaz, hands in the Doctor’s hair. ‘Use you fingers.’

Never one to deny Yaz anything, the Doctor wiggles a bit, her eyes locked with Yaz’s as she slides a single finger inside the young woman. She’s gentle, curling her finger to rub Yaz’s g-spot. 

With a moan, Yaz flops back against the pillows, hand gripping the Doctor’s hair harder as the Time Lord quickens the pace, adding a second finger to her thrusts. She begins to swirl her tongue over Yaz’s clitoris, matching pace as best she can.

With a strangled yell, Yaz’s hips thrust against the Doctor’s face, bashing her nose. It smarts but the Doctor doesn’t stop, instead splaying her free hand across Yaz’s stomach to keep her pinned down. 

‘Doctor, Doctor I’m going t-,’ pants Yaz, as her body begins to tremble. The Doctor can feel Yaz’s muscles tensing around her fingers as her cries become incoherent.

Yaz’s orgasm happens quickly, her legs closing around the Doctor’s head like a vice as she rides it out. Finally, she relaxes though her body is ablaze, tingling from head to toe. The Doctor slowly pulls away, pressing light kisses to Yaz’s stomach and shuddering chest as she crawls up to lie next to her.

‘Are you okay?’ The Doctor props herself up, eyeing Yaz’s sweaty, satisfied face.

‘Better now you’re here,’ says Yaz with a glowing smile as she reaches up to wipe the Doctor’s face. The Time Lord’s hair is the messiest it’s ever been and Yaz decides that it’s her favourite look.

Yaz pulls the Doctor in for a gentle kiss. She peppers them across the Doctor’s cheeks and finishes with one on her nose. The Doctor scrunches her face up in the daft way that Yaz finds so endearing.

The Tardis is quiet, the warm glow dim as though the ship had fallen asleep too. They pull the bedsheets up over their tangled limbs and the Doctor tucks her head under Yaz’s chin. She listens to Yaz steady heartbeat, letting it’s solitary rhythm lull her to sleep.


End file.
